


Blood

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape
Genre: Alternate Universe, Challenge Response, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: There was an awful lot of blood in Aeryn's room on Valdon. And no sign of Aeryn.





	Blood

**Author's Note:**

> An old, forgotten Starburst Challenge fic. The challenge was 'Xhalax lives'.
> 
> Setting: The Choice and onwards through into Season 4. The Challenge: Xhalax Lives.
> 
> No warnings except that this is Farscape, so expect things to be distressing.
> 
> I know this is a bit more of an outline than a fully fleshed out fic but both Time and Muse have been uncooperative lately. I hope you enjoy it anyway. And if anyone wants to play with these Bunnies, be my guest.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.

Blood

 

Crais had seldom felt so alive, so totally rooted in the moment. His movements were calculated and purposeful. He held his pulse pistol firmly out in front of him, ready to shoot any foe that crossed his path. Close quarters combat, or the prospect of it, always had the same exhilarating effect on him. 

Reaching his objective, he carefully slid forwards into Aeryn’s dingy hotel room, at once both terrified and energized at the thought of what he might find there. 

The room was empty. It took him two full circuits of the chamber, each time checking the balcony, the storage units and the waste alcove, before he accepted the situation and lowered his pistol. His shoulders slumped, exhaustion hitting him as the immediacy of the situation passed and the anti-climax of what he had failed to find set in.

Where was Aeryn? And where the frell was Xhalax? They should have both been here. But the room was empty.

Dejected, Crais slumped down to sit on the edge of the bed to ground himself while he took stock. What to do now? He reached out an arm to brace himself against the dirty mattress. When his hand encountered something unexpected, warm, moist and sticky he swiftly pulled his arm back. Horrified, he turned to investigate why the bed was so soiled.

Gore. Fresh blood and gore. And lots of it. In Crais’ professional opinion, someone had recently met with a violent end on the bed. He leapt to his feet in horror. The blood was everywhere! So much! So, so much! How could anyone have survived that? His eyes widened and his gorge rose as he realised quite how blood soaked the sheets were.

‘~’

“But how can you be sure?” Rygel protested for the third time in as many macrots.

Crais rolled his eyes. “There was a Peacekeeper blood analyser in the room.”

“Why?” Rygel demanded.

“How the frell should I know?” Crais snapped in reply. “Whyever it was there, the spectral readout it gave for the blood all over the bed…. It…” Crais paused and looked away. He paced around, trying to walk of his agitation, trying to avoid meeting Rygel’s eye. When he finally spoke again his voice was low and hoarse. “It is the same as that which Talyn has on file for Aer…. Officer Sun!”

“But it doesn’t mean she is dead!” Rygel protested loudly.

“Trust me!” Crais moved his hands up until his open fingers and palms framed his head, steeling himself to say what had to be said. “No one could lose that much blood and live. No one.” He paused and took a deep, sighing breath while Rygel finally turned woeful eyes towards the floor. Crais’ voice softened a shade. “We must leave before Xhalax has the chance to arrange for us to share in Aeryn’s fate.”

‘~’

John stood in Moya’s docking bay, an excited grin on his face as he waited for the transport pod from Talyn to open. 

“How you doin’ man? Long time no see!” Crichton grinned as he greeted Rygel.

“Yes, ah….. Good to see you too. But if anything is missing from my quarters, blood is going to spill.” Rygel countered, floating on by without really stopping, smiling or meeting John’s gaze.

“Whatever,” John grinned and turned back towards the pod, just in time to see Crais walking uncomfortably towards him, carrying two large bags. Crais, too, was avoiding meeting Crichton’s eye. Crichton unthinkingly dismissed it: after all, they had never got along well together.

“Crais!” John grinned. Crais returned the smile but it was not a particularly happy or encouraging look on him. John shrugged internally, determined not to let Crais detract from his happy mood at the prospect of seeing Aeryn once again.

Crais stopped in front of John, paused, stared at the floor and cleared his throat. Finally, he raised his face to John’s.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, starting to suspect all was not quite right, although his smile was still unwilling to completely fade from his face.

“The, umm…. Other Crichton…. And Aeryn…. Are dead.” Crais voice was flat, but still somehow with a hint of sympathy.

John shook his head, but was unable to shake the last vestiges of his smile away. The shock was just too great for him to process. 

“No,” he shook his head as his knees began to buckle beneath him. “No! No! No!” He began to scream as his universe fell apart.

 

Epilogue

Xhalax fastened the shiny metal buckles that ran up her long, heavy combat boots and then began to strip and check her pulse pistol once again as she wondered how long it would be before Aeryn returned to the rogue Peacekeeper unit, until she returned to their shared quarters. They were a good team, a valuable asset to the ex-Peacekeeper assassination squad. Not that they ever served together, of course. That had been part of the deal ever since they had joined up, a cycle ago: At least one of them was always present on the base-ship to look after Talyn, Aeryn’s young son. 

Lechna, the leader of their unit, had readily, if not happily, agreed to the Suns unusual arrangement. It had been a small concession for him to make. He had rationalised it by saying that emotional attachments were always to be avoided in units on active duty, so they probably wouldn’t have ended up performing missions together even had Aeryn not been pregnant. He hadn’t needed them to point out that he was lucky to have two such highly trained, elite operatives join his team, although that didn’t make it any less true.

Xhalax paused in cleaning the barrel of her weapon as she remembered back to events which had led them here: She had had no idea that Aeryn was pregnant when she had gone to her hotel room on Valldon to kill her. Xhalax snorted at the memory and almost smiled. Aeryn hadn’t known either. She had nearly killed her daughter and grandson, coming closest when they had stood toe to toe on the balcony, pouring out all of their anger and grief and resentment at each other. The vitriol she and Aeryn had unleashed on each other had almost ground to a halt – they had almost reached an understanding anyway, when the blood analyser had beeped insistently from just inside the room. Xhalax had frowned at first. Together they had warily moved back inside the room to investigate, still not entirely at peace with each other, but not intent on murdering each other either any more.

“Subject: Female, Sebacean, age 26 cycles. Status: Pregnant (in stasis).” The readout had declared.

“No!” Aeryn had exclaimed. Xhalax still smiled when she recalled how Aeryn’s jaw had flopped open, either from disbelief or horror, it had been hard to say. She also remembered how that reaction had taken Xhalax full-circle, back to when she had discovered her own pregnancy with Aeryn. That was when she had realised that together she and her daughter had been given a chance to break the cycle that had started so long ago. They could do it together. Neither of them had anything left to go back to, after all.

Back in the present the baby began to stir and Xhalax turned towards it, discarding her half-assembled weapon as she went to minister to the child. Aeryn’s current assignment, leading a team who were contracted to assassinate a rather unpleasant ruler called the Prime Hokathian, had involved her being away in the field for several weekens and so given Xhalax ample time to bond with her now walking-and-talking grandchild. It was almost like he was the child which fate and Peacekeeper doctrine had denied her, all those years before.

“Don’t worry, Talyn,” she whispered, lifting the infant and pressing a small, chewable toy pulse pistol into his hand to quieten him and give him some relief from the pain of his emerging teeth. “Your mother should be back soon.” And if not, well, then Xhalax knew that she would be more than happy to step into the role.

 

The end


End file.
